When the British government recently announced its plan to emulate Denmark’s asylum and immigration system, it framed the move as a way to restore fairness and regain control. But for those who know how Denmark’s system actually works, the move raises serious ethical — and practical — questions.

This is not the first time the UK and Denmark have looked to each other for ideas on tough migration policies. In 2022, both considered schemes to send asylum seekers to Rwanda and for claims to be processed there.

In the end, neither country went ahead. Denmark paused its proposals and the UK’s scheme was blocked by the courts and then ditched after a change of government.

Denmark once prided itself on its liberal welfare state and human rights commitments. But it has spent the past decade turning itself into one of Europe’s toughest destinations for refugees.

Indeed, it is the only country in Europe to have revoked refugee protection on a large scale. And the first to reorient its laws away from integration and towards return.

I have spent years studying Denmark’s migration system and interviewing the refugees affected by it. My forthcoming book, Un-welcome to Denmark, traces the laws governing entry, residence and expulsion in Denmark’s Aliens Act, which has been amended more than 100 times over 36 years (1983–2019).

For context, that pace of change is unusually high, making Denmark’s immigration system one of the most frequently revised in Europe. And this has created near constant uncertainty for those living under it.

A tougher system

The turning point for Denmark’s asylum system came in 2015, when a change to the Aliens Act allowed authorities to revoke refugee status if conditions in someone’s home country had improved — even when those improvements were fragile or unpredictable.

Between 2017 and 2018, roughly 900 Somali refugees lost their residence permits. Then in 2019, just as the Social Democrats returned to power under Mette Frederiksen, parliament approved a package of legislation that has widely been described as a “paradigm shift” in Denmark’s asylum policy.

Under this tougher system, Syrian refugees who held temporary protection had their permits reassessed. In 2022 alone, nearly 400 Syrians left Denmark, fearing they would lose their refugee status and sought protection elsewhere in Europe.

Residencies were revoked, but refugees could not be deported, because Denmark had no diplomatic relations with the then Assad government. So people were placed in so called “departure centres” — facilities designed to house people expected to leave the country (and under stricter conditions than standard refugee shelters).

Some of the Syrians I spoke with, who were detained at these centres, described the experience as extremely unpleasant — a non-life — seemingly designed to push them to leave voluntarily.

A life in limbo

Denmark has become a pioneer in restrictive immigration policies. And this has come with serious legal, ethical and moral challenges.

The European Court of Human Rights has, for example, previously found that Denmark violated the right to family life under the European Convention on Human Rights due to a three-year waiting period for refugees with temporary protection.

Last year, the European Court of Justice accused Denmark of racial discrimination for planned mass housing evictions in previously so called “ghetto” neighbourhoods (now referred to as parallel societies, where a high proportion of residents are migrants.

Refugees I’ve spoken with have told me how they often feel that integration is pointless if they might still be deported. Social isolation and limited rights for asylum seekers are the norm. Families face long waiting times for reunification despite few cases and refugees face temporary permits that hinder long-term planning.

The system is clearly designed to discourage settlement through restrictive living conditions and a lack of control over daily life, which creates a huge amount of stress and fear for those living under such rules.

Harsh and destabilising

Denmark’s asylum system shows how far a (supposedly) centre-left government can go in tightening migration policies while maintaining political support. The Social Democrats inherited a strict framework and have continued to apply it, including temporary protection, reassessment of refugee status and the use of departure centres.

For the UK, which is now considering adopting similar policies, the Danish experience offers cautionary lessons. These measures may reduce asylum numbers, but they come at a human and legal cost. Families are left in uncertainty, long-term planning is impossible and life in departure centres can be harsh and destabilising.

Any government looking to copy this approach should look beyond the statistics and consider the real experiences of the people affected. Denmark’s story is a reminder that migration policy is not just about managing numbers — it is also about the lives that are shaped by those policies.

This article was commissioned by Videnskab.dk as part of a partnership collaboration with The Conversation. You can read the Danish version of this article, here.

This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Michelle Pace, Roskilde University

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Michelle Pace received funding from the Carlsberg Foundation for her forthcoming monograph entitled Un-welcome to Denmark. The Paradigm Shift and Refugee Integration (MUP, December 2025). (Details here: https://www.carlsbergfondet.dk/en/what-we-have-funded/cf21-0519/). She is also an Associate Fellow, Europe Program, at Chatham House.